Dearest Babbletrash,
It's me, Josie. My dad has another one of his "funny, morning headaches" so he's asked me to fill in -- again. This morning's topic: things I no longer need anyone's f***ing help with, thank you very much. Let's start with drinking. (Why not? My dad does.) And let's forget all about the Sippy Cup. What a loathesome, condescending invention. No, these days, when I want to get my drink on, it's all about the cup.
Here's what I'm talking about:
The reason the photos blurry is because I'm getting my chug on. I've just downed fifteen ounces of buttermilk. And here's what happens next...
I shake my cup around and burp at max volume until my mamma gets very sleepy and compliant and then I demand MORE BUTTERMILK.
There's also the whole eating situation. News flash: I am no longer being spoon fed. That time is over. Any food transport happens at my initiation. Like so:
First, the spoon goes down and in...
Then it goes slowly up around for a minute or so, until I've actually got Cheerios on the spoon...
Then in goes in my piehole ...
Hey, who forgot to put sugar on my Cheerios!
I swear, do I have to do everything around here?
Yes, apparently, I do.
